


baring teeth, brittle as razor blades

by maybe_now



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post s2 finale, a coda of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:23:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3530939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybe_now/pseuds/maybe_now
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I heard you bit a guy's ear off."</p>
<p>(raven reyes and octavia blake, after.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	baring teeth, brittle as razor blades

**Author's Note:**

> woke up this morning and started writing this.   
> these two are so so important to me.   
> these two becoming best friends is even more important to me.  
> raven interacting with her friends in GENERAL is important to me.
> 
> anyways. here's this.

_-_

 

_baring teeth, brittle as razor blades_

 

-

 

 

 

“I heard you bit a guy’s ear off.”

Raven creaks her eyes open to find a smirking Octavia Blake standing next to her cot in the Med Bay.

Dark war paint still clings to her eyes, black Grounder gear on her skin like glue.  The weathered material moves easily with her as she folds her arms across her chest. Her hair is darker from days without washing.  

The only colorful thing about her is the amusement present in her chameleon blue eyes, but even that mirth is twisted.

She might be the most bad ass thing Raven’s ever seen.

Raven clears her throat, the sound doubling as a sharp laugh, trying to push down the pain from the drill holes, from the itch and burn around her neck, from overusing her bum leg.

A corner of her lips curls upward.  Wick had brought her enough water to wash her mouth out several times, but she can still taste the metallic tang of blood.

She steels herself, moving to prop herself up on an elbow, but a hand firmly pushes her to stay on her back.

Raven gives up resisting with a half-hearted eye roll, and for a second Octavia’s mouth softens.

“Hell yeah,” she confirms with a nod, trying to muster up some sort of bravado.  She can still feel the tear of flesh as she ripped her clenched jaw away from her torturer.

She’s rewarded with a feral smile, and feels her expression stretch to match.

“Fuck yeah,” Octavia grinned.

Their teeth may as well be razor blades.

Raven allows herself the small victory.  If she was going to die on that table in that fucking mountain, there’s no way she’d stop fighting until her last breath.

This place could take away anything, her love, her mobility, her pride, but it would never take away her desire to survive.

Octavia reaches behind her to pull a bench closer to her bedside and takes a seat.

Raven eyes her.  Not that she wishes Octavia would go away, but because she’s surprised that after reuniting with Lincoln, Bellamy, and the rest of the kids, that Octavia’s planting herself here.

“What’s going on?” she asks warily.

“Wanted to check on you,” she shrugs. “You went through some shit.”

Raven scoffs.  An understatement, to say the least, if you traced time all the way back to John fucking Murphy lodging a bullet in her spine, but she knows that Octavia’s trying to let her know she isn’t here to pity her.  

The Blakes, they get it, that pride.  They carry it too.

“Yeah, well,” she starts, trying to muster up some sort of comic indifference to the fact that she’s been crippled, again, “now I’ve got two fucked legs.”

Her joking tone just comes out as bitter. She’s not sorry.

Octavia just nods, head bowing a bit as her mouth thins to a harsh line.

“Drill holes should heal, right?”

Raven deflates, stare burning into the ceiling.

“Yeah, that’s what Jackson said.”

Octavia murmurs some type of acknowledgment, and a weighty silence stretches between them for a second before Octavia starts speaking again.

“Clarke left.”

She only briefly registers the something-like-derision twisting Octavia’s tone, because those two unexpected words hit her, hard.

Clarke  _left_?

“ _What_?” she mutters, incredulous.  Her eyes rapidly flit over Octavia’s face but all she sees is something cold and hard, and so she knows that Octavia means something more permanent than for an overnight camping trip.

A sudden panic seizes her.

“And Bellamy?”

She remembers seeing them walking side by side, shoulders heavy as they returned to camp, partners reunited once more.  

Octavia’s eyes flash dangerously, mouth curling down.

“ _Here_ , where hebelongs.”

Her voice is more cutting than the sword strapped to her back.

Raven sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

Her hand reaches up to scrub at her forehead.  She just breathes, focuses on inhaling and exhaling for 60 beats, 60 beats measured by the pain in her legs throbbing regularly with her pulse.

“Well shit,” she exhales finally, opening her eyes and glancing back over at Octavia.

Octavia breaks her gaze to look at the floor, and for a second the impenetrable disdain on her face turns into something more somber.

“Yeah,” she echoes, “shit.”

“When..?”

Octavia sighs.

“About an hour or two ago? Right when we got back to camp.”

“Does everyone…?”

Octavia doesn’t make her finish the question.

“No.  I don’t know.  I don’t know who saw her walk off, or, if they did see, if they realized she wasn’t coming back.”  

She pauses, lips pursing. “I hardly even got it out of Bellamy, if I hadn’t turned to look for him and seen her walk away...  

Pretty much had to pry it out of him.  He…”

Octavia huffs, looking away to return with a hardened gaze.  “She left him, you know?”

Raven can only let out a hum of understanding.  Octavia looks wound up, angry, but Raven just feels tired.

Confused, a little lost, more than a bit betrayed, but ultimately: tired.

She left him, she left them all.  

She didn’t say goodbye.

Octavia sits there, pausing for a moment longer with her elbows resting on her knees. Her fingers fiddle a bit with a peeling blister on the palm of one of her clasped hands.

Raven feels exhaustion pulling at her.  It’s quiet between them for a long while, and she almost sinks into sleep before Octavia abruptly breaks the silence.

“When you feel better, do you want me to teach you how to throw daggers?”

The question is blurted out, more eager and searching and innocent than what she’s used to hearing from the hardened warrior Octavia’s become.  She catches Octavia catch herself, watches as she quickly schools any expression off her face.  

For the first time in a long time, she remembers that Octavia is younger than her.

“Yeah, but only if I get to teach you thermodynamics after.”

Octavia’s face scrunches comically and she shoots her a dubious look.

Raven huffs out a laugh. “Just kidding, Jesus.”  

Octavia rolls her eyes. She arches an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘ _well?_ ’

A warmth flickers in her chest, a smile ghosting onto her lips as she finally lets her eyes slide close.

“Yeah, Octavia,” she whispers, “yeah, I’d like that.”


End file.
